


Safekeeping

by fishfingersandjellybabies



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 05:18:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5815687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishfingersandjellybabies/pseuds/fishfingersandjellybabies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She wondered if he’d know. The lives he touched while he was here. The people he shattered when he left. The little boy he left behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safekeeping

**Author's Note:**

> I’m back on the kick that every single hero in the DC universe _**needs**_ to become Damian’s parent. Set pre-Grayson 12, I guess.

She watched from the gates of the cemetery, unsure of what to do.

It’d taken a lot to come here. Now, in general, at all. But she had to. It was time to put the loss behind her. Time to let the dead go and move on with her life. Learn to be happy again, learn to, maybe, one day, _love_ again.

It’s what he would have wanted, for her.

And as much as she didn’t want to see the grave, she had to visit it, had to visit _him_. Just _once_. After everything they’d been through, after all the love he gave her, he deserved that much.

But this.

She wasn’t prepared for this.

Jason had mentioned that the house was more often empty than not, so she didn’t expect to run into anyone. Least of all a child.

Least of all, the child Dick _raised_.

He was kneeling in front of the grave, hands in the pocket of a zipped-up hoody, face buried in a tight scarf, and ankles tucked under his thighs. He looked like he’d been sitting there for a while, just staring forward. Looked like one of the stone statues surrounding him, himself.

She shivered at the thought that, just a few weeks ago, this child had been dead too.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and stepped forward. Was only halfway there when the child spoke.

“…Hello.”

He hadn’t moved, and didn’t even look back for a response. Did he know it was her? Or was he at the point that he didn’t care? She walked up next to him anyway, not much caring about the answer. “Hello, Damian.”

Kory stood there a moment. Stared down at the gravestone. It was clean, completely cleared of leaves and other foliage. Recently done apparently, as she could see those dead leaves and pulled weeds spread around it. Faintly wondered if that’s why Damian’s hands were in his jacket, because they were dirty from completing the task himself.

Because there was no doubt that it was he who had done so.

The gravestone itself was nice. A dark marble, engraved with beautiful flowers, and gold lettering. Not too big and not too small. Average, and that almost felt wrong, for someone so…so…

For someone like Dick Grayson.

He’d have loved it though. Thought it was beautiful.

“…He’d be happy,” Damian suddenly said, voice soft. She glanced down at him. At his ashen face and tired eyes. His slumped posture and hunched shoulders. “That you came.”

“Oh, I’m not so sure.” Kory returned, trying to sound pleasant as she kneeled next to him. He didn’t recoil from her, or even lean away. Jason said things like that meant he liked you. “It appears I’m a little…late.”

Damian shook his head, eyes never leaving the tombstone. “He never cared about that stuff.”

Kory smiled because – yeah, he _didn’t_.

They sat in silence for a moment, both just staring. Watching a stone that would never move. But all of Kory’s nerves disappeared, suddenly, and there was a comfort, sitting here with this boy. With another soul that Dick had loved so much.

The words were sudden, and surprising. “You were his betrothed.”

“…Once.” She agreed solemnly. “Before you were even born, I believe. Or not long after.”

Damian nodded absently. Confidently declared: “He loved you.”

And she had to fight down the response that had become automatic in the past few years. Had to stop herself from saying _“No he didn’t.”_ or _“Not enough.”_ Because Damian didn’t need to know that. “…And I loved him too.”

Another nod, but just one this time. “…Starfire?”

She tilted her chin towards him. “Hm?”

And it was without warning that the boy turned his head, and looked up at her with the saddest, most open eyes she’d ever seen, along with the quietest whisper. “…Can you tell me about him?”

She was taken aback, blinked rapidly. “You knew him.” She tried. “I believe _you_ knew him better than most.”

Damian shook his head. “I knew him after Father died. I want to know the real Dick Grayson.” A pause, to look down at the grave. “I want to know the Dick Grayson _you_ did.”

She hesitated, then hummed. “Well.” She started, halting just slightly. “He was funny. And brave. And the best person I’ve ever known.”

He scoffed, then, and had a little bit of the attitude she always knew him to have. “Well I knew _that_.”

“He was loyal, to a fault. And was a firm believer in second chances. But if you hurt those he cared about, you would never have his trust again. He tended to put much of the world on his shoulders, too. He thought every bad thing that ever happened was his fault, and always vowed to fix it. Made it his mission in life, put it before anything or anyone else, to fix it.” She stopped, then sighed. “He loved sleeping in, and sunrises. He loved food, and trying to cook. He never did well, though, so we often ended up at a late night diner.”

She stopped again, to swallow the lump in her throat. Smiled once more. Felt the tears welling in her eyes.

“He was the best listener I ever met. And had the talent for making me feel important.” She nodded, mostly to herself, and looked down at the grave. At the fancily written _Richard John Grayson_. “I never felt less than the most amazing person in the world, when I was with him.”

“…He had a knack for that.” Damian seemed to agree. His voice was back to distant. His eyes were back to a thousand yards away, even as they glared into the dark stone. “It was one of those things that annoyed me at the time, but I appreciate it now that…” A sniff. “Well. Now that I don’t have it.”

Kory nodded absently again.

Silence encompassed them once more.

And she couldn’t help but think about it, what Dick would be saying if he were here now. He’d probably be chattering away, cracking jokes to make the both of them smile. Wedging himself between them and holding both of their hands. Asking them to talk, begging them not to hold anything in, to let him help them, to let him _hear_ them.

And it was the cruelest joke in the world, to know that now he couldn’t.

It was a few minutes later, that Damian spoke again. That he bowed his head, pulled his hands from his pockets, clasped them on his lap, and quietly repeated:

“He loved you.”

Kory couldn’t help but smile. Grimly, sweetly. Tilted her head as she reached out and took Damian’s hand. Intertwined their fingers and squeezed.

“He loved you, too.” She promised. “Just as much as me. And honestly? Probably more so.”

A tear ran soundlessly down Damian’s cheek, as he squeezed her hand back.

“I never told him.” Damian admitted. “I never told him that I loved him too.” A hitched gasp, another twitch of his fingers. “What if he was waiting for me to?”

“He knew.” Kory said urgently, releasing Damian’s fingers only to wrap her arm around Damian’s shoulders. “Don’t you worry, small one. He knew. He knew from the first moment you felt it, and remembered it every second you were together. And even every second you weren’t.”

She was surprised when Damian leaned into her side, let his tears fall faster, louder. Remembered Jason saying the kid was too stoic for his own good, and tended to clam up when upset. She wondered if she should call her friend now. After all, this wasn’t only Dick’s little brother. He was Jason’s too, and she knew the Red Hood cared about him just as much.

“I’m sorry.” Damian wheezed, but it was so quiet, she wondered who he was exactly apologizing to. She glanced down at him, saw his eyes still glued to the tomb stone. “I’m so sorry.”

And suddenly, she didn’t know what broke her heart more – the fact that Dick was dead and gone, or the fact that he’d left this little boy behind so shattered. So alone.

So now, it was her turn to repeat herself, as she leaned forward and down, ran her other hand across Damian’s tear-streaked face and through his bangs. “He loved you.”

Damian shook his head, almost violently, as if to say – _“He shouldn’t have.”_

“He loved you,” She said for a third time. “And he would hate to see you out here like this, especially on his behalf.” She paused, as he raised those hands – dirty, just like she thought – to rub at his eyes, then blinked up at her. “So how about you come with me, I do believe Jason claimed we were having a…I think he called it a ‘game night,’ this evening. And I do not know about your brother, but I would be honored if you attended.”

Jason had said no such thing, of course. But she knew he wouldn’t complain about her plus-one, especially not when he saw the puffiness to the child’s eyes. And even if the physical evidence of Damian’s tears were gone by the time they returned to the safehouse, despite local rumours, the Red Hood _did_ have a heart. And much like the sainted Dick Grayson, it bled for his family.

The boy would not be turned away. Not by her, not by the Red Hood and not by Arsenal. Not ever.

Goodness, he might even receive a hug, by the end of the night.

(If his night didn’t end with Jason tucking him into one of their beds, of course.)

Damian didn’t answer, too distracted by wiping his eyes, and sniffing the snot back into his nose. “Come,” She decided for him, dropping her hand from his face to wrap around his torso, lifting him off the ground, even as she took to the skies. “I will fly us there, to beat the traffic.”

Damian didn’t speak, just clung to her neck. She smiled, kissed his temple and without another look back rose into the clouds.

She thought, faintly, of a dream she had once. Of her and Dick married, with child. It was a little girl, in that dream. Dark hair and green eyes. And she loved her. Kory loved that little girl more than anything, knew Dick did too. Remembered the scenes of that dream like they were memories. Often, fondly, nostalgically.

And when their marriage was called off, it broke her soul to know that such a child would never exist.

But as she held the back of Damian’s head, as he burrowed his face against her neck, and trusted her with his life, she couldn’t help but laugh. Happily. Joyously. Adoringly.

Perhaps Dick still gave her a child to love after all.


End file.
